


One Less Day

by Reah22



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, PLEASE MIND THE TAGS HERE!!, Suicide, everyone dies, no happy ending, p l e a s e mind the tags, pet death, reading triggering stuff is self-harm please remember that, that's just good advice any day though really, this is your warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:49:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reah22/pseuds/Reah22
Summary: It was thirty-five years to the day that he joined his father’s mission.The world didn’t seem any better.





	One Less Day

**Author's Note:**

> Blame this all on mirainawen on Tumblr. It was her post that started this whole thing anyways XD   
https://mirainawen.tumblr.com/post/187269581735/damian-is-20-when-alfred-dies-the-cat-contracts-a
> 
> If you didn't check the tags at first, please do. NOT a happy story!

Damian had been living on his own for less than a year now, having come to the decision that he needed to have his own space. Titus and Alfred the cat had came with him, along with an alarming amount of art supplies and all of his vigilante gear. He had outgrown Robin, but had yet to find a fitting persona.

As he sat by the window of his new apartment, sketching out designs, he noticed Alfred pacing uneasily before beginning to hack ominously. Damian wasn’t able to move fast enough to stop him from throwing up on the floor.

Damian had noticed odd behavior from the old cat for a while now, and it pained him to see his one of his oldest friends in pain. 

“All of this suffering is unnecessary, Alfred. You can go.” Damian scolded him, doing his best to hide the tremor in his voice. It was stupid, to be ungrateful for all of the time he had recieved. Alfred was at least ten years old now--a dignified elder in cat years. It wasn’t fair to ask him to hurt more than he had to simply for Damian’s sake.

That still didn’t stop him from crying bitter tears when he woke up in the morning to find Alfred stiff and cold beside him. Titus whined from his spot at the foot of the bed, looking as mournful and confused as a dog could. 

“Sorry, boy.” Damian whispered hoarsely, reaching out to stroke Titus’ ears. The dog turned his face into Damian’s wrist, licking comfortingly. He continued to wake up whining for a month.

Almost a year later, Damian once again woke to the cold, heavy feeling of Titus’ prone body laying across his feet. This time, though, there was no one there to comfort him as he cried.

~~*~~

When Pennyworth started forgetting things, the entire family simultaneously acted on it and ignored it. Todd hung around the manor a lot more, though he was prone to slipping out whenever another family member noticed his presence. Drake returned from California, but after spending any significant periods of time with the butler, was prone to hiding away in his room. Grayson and Father were often engaged in long conversations, but devoid of the younger man’s typical cheer or grace. Damian pretended not to notice their glassy eyes or stuttering breaths whenever they spent any amount of time in Pennyworth’s presence. Even Cass looked shaken when she talked with the man, betrayed by her tendency to bury her face in Brown’s shoulder. 

As for Damian, he would creep down to Pennyworth’s rooms at dusk, when most of his family were suiting up for patrol. The man would smile at him while he lingered in the doorway, inviting him in with a delicate nod of his head. Damian would rush into the room before he could change his mind, tucking himself below the man’s arm. Never mind that he was twenty-three and rivalled his father in height, far from the scrawny little child he was when he first came to the Manor. 

The truth was, Damian was scared. He had quite literally never known the Manor without Pennyworth, and though he acted disaffected in front of his family, he shuddered to think of the future.

When Pennyworth started to call Grayson by his father’s name, Damian logically knew that the end was drawing closer. That didn’t stop him from being completely and utterly shocked to once again waking up to missing a family member. Despite Grayson and Father’s best efforts, Damian didn’t speak for a week straight. 

He didn’t think he’d ever get rid of the nightmares of the elderly man’s frail voice calling out for help.

~~*~~

The next time Damian loses a family member, he’s twenty-five and it’s broad daylight. 

He was at Wayne Enterprises for the day, helping his father prepare for a board meeting. Drake was out of town—probably galavanting around with his Titans somewhere—and therefore Damian was forced to pick up the slack. At least he had the promise of a one-on-one vacation with his father as incentive. They had been planning a trip to the Amazon for_ months_ now, and Damian was all kinds of impatient. 

He remembered why he hated working, now. The business was just plain boring to him, and after a few experimental tries when he was a teenager, Damian left W.E. alone. 

Damian didn’t remember what happened first—the nagging feeling that something was _wrong _or the commotion of rising voices from the board room down the hall. Raised voices coming from a meeting room in W.E. was hardly anything new, but coupled with his sudden sense of dread, Damian felt like it was something bigger than a simple disagreement over funding. 

He was up and moving out of his seat before he even got the call from a panicked secretary. Years of training with both his father and mother had taught him to listen to his instincts. 

He wished he hadn’t. The first thing he saw when he entered the room was his father’s prone body, sprawled across the floor. Dully, he noticed the uproar the rest of the board members were in. it all seemed to blur out of focus, the only clear thing in the room his father.

It was a heart attack, he was told later. The stress of their lifestyle, he was told privately. 

Damian never went to the Amazon.

~~*~~

The following January. 

“Drake, you really need to sleep more. It’s at the point that your bags have bags.” Damian commented idly from the Batcomputer. 

“Aww, see, I always knew you cared, demonspawn. Don’t worry. I’m heading home to sleep now, brat. Which, by the way, is something you should be doing.”

Damian just snorted dismissively, making a show of turning away from Tim. 

“We just worry about you, Dami. You and Duke are practically alone and the house is huge.”

“We’re not alone,Drake. Cassandra is going to be home in a few weeks. And Brown visits practically every day. Not to mention Jon was literally here this morning, and Thomas’ ex-’Robin’ friends act as though they live here.”

“Well, if you say so, demonspawn. Alright, I’m out.”

He stored his uniform in the Cave and left, and Damian thought nothing of it.

Then, approximately eight hours later, Damian got the call. Tim had slipped on black ice outside of his apartment. He’d been in emergency surgery for the past six hours.  
The doctors didn’t think he’d ever be the same again. _Brain dead,_ they called it. Normally, they would remove them from life support, but the family agreed that if there was even the slightest possibility of reviving him, they needed to take it.

Tim was the first brother Damian lost, and he hated it.

~~*~~

When Cassandra passed, Damian couldn’t bring himself to cry. She died practically a year to the day of his father, leading a rebellion in a third-world country. It didn’t seem real to him--Cassandra was the best fighter out of all of them. She was larger than life; she couldn’t just _die._

She couldn’t die because she was his_ sister,_ dammit!

Something stopped her heart, they said. She had no chance. Privately, Damian and Duke agreed that it didn’t seem possible. Cass could control her own heartbeat; surely it was just a ruse to get away. She’d be home soon, with even more ridiculous stories to tell.

They pretended not to notice the pitying looks Gordon gave them when she noticed. 

~~*~~

December, three weeks before Christmas.

Duke came downstairs to a slamming door and a pissed-off Damian. 

“What was it this time?”

“Todd is an idiot!! He’s so blind he can’t even see the nose on his face.” Damian spat, glaring at the man’s back as he climbed on to his motorcycle, driving considerably slower out of the Manor driveway in an obvious attempt to avoid ice. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything he said, Damian. He always gets testy in the winter.” Another thing the family never discussed outright; Jason’s body temperature being closer to that of a corpse than a living human being. 

“Tt. Whatever makes you happy, Thomas.”

They were sitting around in the living room in the evening. It was too cold to patrol; the temperatures were well below freezing. Damian was content to work on a Sudoku problem while Gordon, Thomas, and Brown played Scrabble. The evening news played across the TV on mute, just in case they were needed.

“You cheating bastard! No way is that an actual word.” Brown fumed, while Gordon laughed.

“It is too, Steph!” Thomas defended himself.

“You’ve been playing with Jason too much. He always makes up shit on the fly.” Stephanie complained, making Gordon start wheezing. Damian wasn’t sure what was so funny, but then again, he couldn’t see the board. Thomas probably played something ridiculous.

Suddenly, everyone grew silent. Damian twisted around to see what they were staring at, only to see the horrific pictures of a crash flash across the screen. It looked like a semi had run through a light, slipping on ice maybe?

Then the camera turned, showing a familiar motorcycle mangled and torn apart. Damian didn’t know who moved first, just that the entire family was suddenly up and _running._ They pulled on coats as they headed out the door, and if Damian turned his head_ just right,_ he could almost see Father, Drake, Pennyworth, and Cassandra running along with them.

He just hoped he wouldn’t have to add Todd to the list.

When they got to the crash, they were covering something with a white sheet. Running desperately forward, Thomas motioned for them to calm down. It was only the semi driver.

It was only then Damian noticed a similar white-covered cot, sitting by the side of the crime scene. He approached with mounting dread, reaching out to grasp the edge trepidatiously. 

_He couldn’t do it. _Turning to his family, Damian motioned them over wordlessly. They gathered around silently, terrified and hopeful.

In the end, it was Stephanie who broke the silence.

“If it isn’t him, and we’re gathered around some poor stranger, Jason’s going to die from laughing at us.” She grabbed the sheet and threw it back, almost defiantly. 

Thomas turned around to throw up, and even Stephanie took a few steps back. Jason lay on the cot, only it wasn’t really _Jason_ now, was it? 

Idly, Damian noticed dried blood caked below Jason’s nose. He reached out to wipe it away, only now noticing that he hadn’t grabbed gloves in the mad dash from the house. Jason’s skin was cold beneath his fingers, and his blood flaked off, staying beneath Damian’s nails.

_Yelling, glaring, slamming doors. Leaving in a fit of rage._ The last memories his brother would have of him. Did he think Damian hated him? Was he going to the grave without ever telling his brother how much he loved him?

Damian’s tears froze on his cheeks, and all he could think of was that Jason would never be able to cry again.

~~*~~

Damian’s twenty-sixth birthday was a rather depressing affair. There was notably less people in attendance, and though Damian knew that the vigilante lifestyle was dangerous, it seemed as though it was all happening too fast. 

Cass still hadn’t returned, and Damian was beginning to think that she might not. Maybe--no. She was working somewhere, and her comms were blocked, and that was what happened.

Despite the lowered guest number, Damian’s siblings did their best to stay cheerful. Brown pulled him into a mockery of a waltz, dipping Damian even though he was taller than Father and Todd--had been taller than Father and Todd. Jon pranced around stuffing his face with store-bought cupcakes, because everyone left was on Pennyworth’s kitchen ban and Damian was Not Allowed to bake for his own birthday party, by strict order of both Gordon and Thomas. 

The party wound down after only a few hours, everybody rushing back to their own towns and cities. Only Cyborg lingered with the Batkids, looking incredibly awkward as he talked to Brown.

Damian watched as Brown’s expressions changed wildly--from curiosity, to grief, to outright_ hope. _

He watched as she practically _bounded_ over to where he was standing with Thomas, Gordon, and Brown. He hadn’t seen anyone that hopeful in a while, and judging by the expression on his siblings’ faces, neither had they.

“Cyborg thinks that he has a way to wake Tim up!” She looked almost maniacal.

“Steph… do you really think that’s a good idea? This has never happened before. What if he comes back wrong?” Gordon questioned sharply. Damian noticed the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes, the way she clutched the arms of her wheelchair. Thomas seemed expressionless. Damian recognized the tension lines through his shoulder and the way he was clenching his fists, though.

It wasn’t really a hard decision, now, was it?

“We have to do it, Brown.” He found himself saying. “We have to try. We… we owe him that much, at least.”

Which is how, the very day after Damian’s birthday, they found themselves gathered around Drake’s bedside, staring intently as Cyborg did… _something_ by the head of his bed. Damian didn’t want to watch. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the hand Brown was clenching in her own.

Cyborg stepped back from the bed, and nothing happened. Gordon and Thomas paused, then half-stepped away, and Damian could guarantee that they were berating themselves for raising their hopes up. Only Brown and Damian remained by the bed, eyes fixed on Drake.

Another minute passed, and Damian bit his lip, violently turning his head away. Brown’s hand tightened around Drake’s, and she half-bent over it.

Then Drake’s hand _twitched,_ and Damian was instantly alert. Drake struggled to sit up, one hand entangling itself in Brown’s hair, the other busy ripping out various IV lines and such. Damian didn’t pay attention to that--rather, his focus was on the brother he thought he had lost.

“Tim!!” Damian burst out, drawing everyone’s attention to the figure on the bed.

Thomas and Gordon practically ran to his side with how fast they moved. 

“Tim, are you okay? How do you feel?” Gordon queried, meeting Drake’s eyes. He smiled, but to Damian’s eyes it seemed almost… hollow. Like there was no real emotion behind it.

“Well enough, I suppose, Babs. I guess Jason can’t say he’s the only Robin to survive death now, huh?”

The family collectively winced, and Damian mentally groaned at their obvious reaction. Drake was a _detective;_ they might as well have waved a huge neon flag that read ‘hey we lost a brother and sister while you were dead!’.

But to his surprise, Drake didn’t seem to notice anything. He just kept grinning, as if he’d made the funniest joke of his life.

“Drake… Todd has... _passed_.” Damian stated carefully. “Along with Cassandra.”

Drake tensed up before slumping backwards, his face going expressionless. “I see.”

Damian and the family could only stare at him with worry. _This isn’t Drake. This isn’t how he acts. _

Two years later, Damian found himself standing on shaky legs as they bury Tim for real this time, next to Father. On his father’s other side lay Todd _(and if Damian still checked his grave in hopes he’d wake up again, well, the dead don’t speak) _and on Todd’s far side lay Pennyworth.

Cassandra might not have a grave, but Damian could no longer deny that she couldn’t possibly be among the living. She surely would’ve returned home by now had she lived.

Damian looked at the imposing row of gravestones, then at the family he had left, looking quite pitiful as they stared at the freshly turned earth. He couldn’t help but be scared of who he was going to lose next.

~~*~~

Stephanie left upstate six days after the funeral; the same day the Spoiler died in a firefight protecting a children’s hospital. 

Damian made her promise not to do anything stupid. She only smiled and hugged him.

A day later, he finds her suicide note, sitting in the kitchen. He and Thomas left in a frantic rush, while Gordon was left to search the internet for any news.

They were too late; Stephanie had already leapt from a cliff, flying for the last time. They buried her in front of Tim, with an honorary headstone for Cass next to her.

~~*~~

On Damian’s twenty-eighth birthday, he is given the news that Oracle is retiring. They never find her again either, and her honorary headstone is placed next to Cass’.

On Damian’s happier days, he likes to pretend that she found Cass, and they’re living somewhere far away. Far, far away from Gotham, where neither of them need to worry about fighting ever again.

~~*~~

Jon began spending more time in Gotham with Damian after Gordon left. He claimed it was so his enhanced senses could help Damian the same way Oracle’s network had, but Damian knew it was because he was worried about him. 

It was… comforting, even though Damian would never admit it out loud. Right now, they were tracking down some rogue alien species that Jon had already fought with before. 

“Isn’t this a better way to spend your birthday, Dami?” Jon teased him, playfully shoving at his shoulder.

Damian only snorted derisively, pretending to stumble from Jon’s shove. “You wish, Kent.”

Jon laughed at him, before freezing. His eyes locked on to a point above Damian’s right shoulder--the only warning Damian had before they both turned at charged at the aliens. 

For aliens, they didn’t seem all too different for humans; assuming one could ignore the second pair of arms protruding from their sides. Not to mention they were _fast_. Damian found himself challenged like he hadn’t been in a while, twisting and turning and dodging to avoid their weapons.

Their weapons, which were a sickly shade of green. Damian’s blood turned to ice as he recognized the material. He turned--_he had to find Jon, he had to warn him!_\--only to realize he was too late. 

Damian could only watch as a kryptonite blade tore through his best friend’s chest; could only watch as a surprised expression flashed across his face. He felt like his limbs were made of stone; weighted down too much for him to move in time. 

Suddenly, as if he had blinked and missed it, he found himself clutching Jon’s body and easing it down to the ground. _He’s still breathing, there’s still hope! _

“Damian. Dami, listen to me.”

Damian bent his head down, doing his best to blink tears away. _They could still fix this!_

_“Dami_. You have to keep going. The world needs the Bat.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay; you have to be okay.” In any other moment, Damian would have been disgusted by the outright desperation in his voice. Now, though, he was too preoccupied with putting pressure on the wound to worry about anything else.

“Damian. _Promise me._”

“I-I promise, Jon.” 

~~*~~

Richard had been on a high-stakes off-world mission since two days before Damian’s twenty-first birthday. Two days after his thirty-first, the League officially changes his status to MIA.

Ten years might seem like a long time to wait, but it wasn’t long enough for Damian. He couldn’t bear to watch Richard’s memorial go up in the small cemetery too.

In the end, Duke was left to watch the service alone. Damian refused to leave the house for days.

~~*~~

Mere months later, Duke is patrolling with Damian at night. The Signal and the Bat fly across the rooftops together, when an ominous cracking noise splits the air. Before either of them can do anything, a gargoyle plummets down from a higher cathedral, pinning Duke to the roof.

Damian wishes it was anything else. There was nothing he could do to save him; the meta was clearly beyond anything a doctor could do to help. Instead, he clutched Duke’s hand and watches the light fade from his eyes.

It isn’t much, not nearly as much as what Damian wishes he could do. But in the end, it’s all he _can_ do.

~~*~~

It was thirty-five years to the day that he joined his father’s mission.

The world didn’t seem any better.

**Author's Note:**

> I told you it wasn't happy. If I missed a tag, do let me know ;)


End file.
